Page 67 of Love Undercover
He had no time to MacGyver anything clever, but maybe he could come in where they least expected it. If Chase knew Santiago as well as he did, the man was likely feeling pretty cocky. Probably only had a couple of guys with him.
As he’d seen when he’d looked up the address Santiago had given him, it was a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, and it almost made him roll his eyes. Like some sort of movie villain, Santiago had played to the stereotype. It didn’t help that a storm was brewing overhead, adding to the vibe as he drew closer to the address his GPS led him to.
Chase mentally rolled through what he had in his black duffel bag. Rope, extra guns and ammo. Before leaving, he’dchanged out of his bloodied shirt and into a black, long-sleeve compression shirt and black cargo pants, pausing long enough to inspect the blooming discoloration along his ribs and opt for some painkillers. He’d taken a moment to spray that hippie healing stuff on the slice along his cheekbone and tossed Sadie’s purse into the car with the duffel and the rest of his supplies. He strapped his smallest pistols to the outsides of his thighs and slid two knives into the hidden slots in his boots.
It paid to work for a criminal. He and Kyle had access to weaponry not standard for agents of the FBI.
He’d spent the long drive rotating through all the facts. He wondered how deep this thing really went and how long Gibson had been under Zim’s thumb, what his role was. Because all Chase had was that list of names, people who were compromised but not how. It made his stomach roil to think of the three men who should’ve been trustworthy, should’ve been “the good guys,” and then he lingered on the one who had likely ratted him out.
He’d called Gibson and told him exactly where he was. Kyle was dead and Santiago found the house, and there was no way that would have happened if someone hadn’t given them away. Had he been motivated by the fact that Chase had gone rogue? Maybe Gibson was worried Chase would find him out, so he preemptively acted to cover his ass. Did Santiago even know Chase was FBI? Or had Gibson simply put a bug in the Spaniard’s ear?
Informing Zimmerman of the whole thing would’ve brought the heat down on Gibson because Zim didn’t know Chase was FBI. Unless Santiago had outed him. But so far, it didn’t seem like Santiago had brought anyone else in, and it wasn’t clear if Gibson had told Santiago where Chase’s loyalties really lay.
Whether or not Santiago knew, Chase didn’t think he had any plans to keep Sadie alive. And he certainly had no desire to keepChase alive. It was no secret that Santiago hated him, which meant that this might have been a ploy to draw Chase in and take him out. Maybe even to make him look bad to the boss, giving Santiago a boost in rank.
Chase flipped through various angles, focusing on the analytics. Because if he dwelled too long on what might’ve been happening at that warehouse, his blood would boil. He needed to channel every ounce of energy into calculated focus. He could not fuck this up.
His mind threatened to imagine what Travers could be doing to Sadie. The sick bastard had a special yen for her, and he was known for his appetite for women, a gluttonous and violent snake.
Chase’s hands twisted on the steering wheel, and his foot pressed more heavily into the gas pedal. And then he steered himself away. He couldn’t do anything about what was happeningnow,so he needed to use his time wisely.
He played the angles of the warehouse in his head. He had gotten a cursory idea from the images off the Internet, but he had no idea what the inside layout was. Warehouses typically had several doors along the sides and back in addition to the front. But they would have those covered, blocked, or locked. And they weren’t worth messing with for time’s sake.
He needed to get up high and get the drop on them that way. A higher vantage point would always play in his favor. So he needed to get to the roof or an upper window.
Sometimes these old warehouses had an upper level, usually where offices were located, so if he could figure out which windows led to that upper area, he would be golden.
He bit into his cheek, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t count on this going the right way, especially without any sort of recon. So he had to plan for the inevitable problems that would arise.
At least he would have the benefit of darkness. He took in the way the setting sun lit the summer thunderstorm clouds on fire in front of him.
Small miracles.
On these old country roads, he rarely met another car and knew the likelihood of running into the law was low, so he pushed his speed. He wanted to make it to the meet just early enough that they were on edge waiting for him, but he would still have the element of surprise.
When he came upon the drive to the warehouse, he slowed, shutting off his lights and pulling off into a stand of trees across the road. As he gathered his supplies and grabbed his bag, he squinted toward the building, a hulking shadow against the backdrop of twilit fields beyond.
27
Bad Road
Bad, bad, bad, bad.
It was all bad. All the wrong decisions. The sun crept toward the west as they drove out of the city, past some of the suburbs she’d yet to explore because they were on the other side of Baltimore from where she lived.
Sadie forced herself to pay attention to the route they took. If she was going to survive, she needed to try to get herself out of it.
With or without Chase’s help.
“I know what you’re doing,” Santiago said, his smooth voice quiet. His faint accent was a soft trill.
She cut a look at him then at Travers, who was driving. His attention shifted to the rearview mirror at her face every few minutes. Santiago sat in the back with her, his body turned in her direction so he could keep his dark eyes trained on her.
“And what am I doing?” Her voice was strangely cool and alien-sounding. Almost imperious. Who was she?
He held no weapon on her openly, but sheknewshe shouldn’t test him. Some instinct told her it was there, somewhere within easy reach. He probably made sure she didn’t know where as protection since she might easily grab it.
In this small space, she might’ve been tempted to try taking it from him. Not that she trusted her ability to use whatever he had—probably a gun. Even though she’d grown up in a military family, her father had never insisted she learn much about weapons, and she’d never asked. She regretted it now as she cataloged the open, empty road outside the windows.
